Vanguard Records: Fireteam Clanks
by SuperEpicPandas
Summary: For reasons untold, the Traveler only chose to give the power of the Light to the ranks of the dead. However, the Darkness grows, and the Traveler is getting desperate. She chose six of those living. Why it's six is unknown, nor is the reason why it was these six specifically. This is a record of their clandestine activities, in hopes of insight into Shin Malphur and the V.O.G
1. Our Beginning: Pt1

**Author's Note:** Destiny sure has a big crowd on , which is amazing! Of course, you're all probably a pretty tough crowd anyways, which is great for the author so long as said-toughness is constructive criticism instead of simply "YOU SUCK!" Regardless of whether or not I should liken you to Crota, I hope you enjoy the story of Fireteam CLANKS!

**Our Beginning Pt. 1**

POV: Narrator

The setting sun shoots red beams of light over the City, the last stronghold for humanity approximately 20 kilometers northwest from the Baikonur Cosmodrome. The Traveler lingers per usual, silent and mysterious as ever.

It's 6 pm, and a local bar is running normally. The establishment is only mildly lit, and the slow jazz music that has always been its ambience plays itself through various speakers. People sit at tables and talk quietly about various topics: their daily lives, New Monarchy politics, the fear that the Traveler may one day crush everyone, and other small pointless chatter.

Surprisingly, there's only one person at the actual bar counter besides the bartender. She's a young women, around her mid-20s, with short silver hair and bangs grown barely over her eyes. It's very obvious she's drunk.

"Reggie..." She slurs at the bowtie-donning man with slicked hair as he cleans a glass. "Could you give me another? I ain't drunk enough yet."

"Ah.. Fine, but shouldn't you be getting to the Tower soon enough?" He asks, pouring a little less beer than before into her mug. "I mean, I know you get over your alcohol quicker than most folks, but I don't think Guardians should act like you are right now. And by the way, don't call me 'Reggie'."

The women snatches the mug out of his hand and chugs it quickly, slamming the poor thing back down on the table loud enough that the whole bar could hear it. "NOW LISTEN HERE, REG! Just because I got some fuckin' pipsqueak started followin' me around and tellin' me I've been "chosen" or some bullshit like that, DOES NOT MEAN that I gotta act like everyone else who does!"

The bar goes silent. Everyone stares at her, some out of curiosity and others simply because they were annoyed someone interrupted their conversation. Only a few immediately understood, however, just what she was talking about.

Just then, a man with combed black hair and an unbuttoned brown trench coat enters. Despite being as old as the women, he has a face of a young man around 17 years of age. That is, if you take away the burn mark that crawls up the back of his neck, partially hidden by the coat and his slightly-outgrown hair, though not so much that it's entirely obscured. He looks determined, but as soon as he sees the women an expression of relief washes over him.

"Caren!" He calls out. "I knew you'd be here. Come on, we have to go." He says, ignoring the atmosphere of the room. He grabs her by the wrist, and tries to pull her out of the bar.

"Fuck OFF, Nykel!" Caren cries out like that of an angered Thrall, grabbing the mug and attempting to slam it over Nykel's head. She misses the first time, thanks to either being drunk or the fact that Nykel has had to face this a few times before. He lets go of her hand just before she tries to swing the drinking-tool-turned-weapon back around, grabbing her other wrist. He calmly pries the mug from her grip, setting it back down gently on the bar counter.

"I'm not going..." Caren mutters, holding her head low, her wrist still in Nykel's hand.

"Where? I haven't said where we were going yet." Nykel replies, hardly noticing his friend's pain. "And don't mumble; I don't care if you're drunk, it's disrespectful."

"But we're going to the Tower, right? To that massive, all-too-pure pillar that this city's been in the shadow of since before the fucking _Collapse?!_ I don't give a fuck if I'm supposed to be a Guardian, I'm not going!" Caren exclaims.

"Do you not want to go because you _hate_ the Tower or because you don't think you're _worthy_ to go to the Tower? Look, if your ghost chose you, then doesn't that mean you _are_ worthy?" Nykel tries his best to comfort his childhood friend.

Caren says nothing; rather, she keeps her head lowered, biting her lip.

Just as Nykel thinks Caren's calmed down, the doors swing open behind him, followed by multiple footsteps.

"My, my, who could this be? I thought I told _you_ to stay away from our neighborhood," A sleazy voice calls out confidently. ".. Caren."

Nykel looks over, seeing five gangsters dressed half-assed in blue and black clothing that was meant to be a uniform. Immediately, he gets a bad taste in his mouth. "We were just about to leave."

"Now, now, what's the rush? After all, you still have to pay the price for trespassin' where you ain't welcome." The hoodlum pulls out a knife, neither big nor small, and points it at the two with a menacing sneer.

Caren keeps her head lowered.

"I really don't wanna hurt you." Nykel warns, his Italian-American accent coming out. "I know that sounds really strange coming from a kid whom everybody in our neighborhood's seen be one of the wimpiest pipsqueaks in the City, but things just got real different for me last night, so I'm more worried you and your buddies might get hurt, Jerry." While he appears to say these words out of sincerity, it must be known that the lead hoodlum, Jerry, absolutely hates being called by his first name.

Nykel knows this.

"Gah... Don't you dare CALL ME THAT!" Jerry screams, raising the blade high and bringing it down onto Nykel.

Except, that didn't happen. Just as the blade was about to come in contact with Nykel's left shoulder, the young man grabbed Jerry's attacking wrist.

Nykel sighs. "That's too bad. For you, I mean. Let me explain things a bit further. You see, when I said things got real different last night, I'm talkin' about how the Traveler himself sent one of his minions to tell yours truly that I had been chosen to become a _Guardian_. Now, it seems, I've been bestowed with the wondrous powers of the Traveler himself." He explains.

All the color drained from Jerry's face as his wrist begins to heat up. "H-hey, Nikky, no need to be so hasty because of a simple misundersta- h-h-hey, that's h-hot..."

"I'm afraid you'll just have to _burn_, my old friend. Ah, I guess you were never really my friend. Come to think of it, you were kind of an asshole to me, weren't you? The kind of asshole that deserves to be _scorched_."

"H-hey! Help me out here! Beat this joker, it don't matter if he's one of those stuck-up, light-obsessed pricks!" Jerry cries out to his comrades desperately as his jacket sleeve becomes seared and burnt.

"You really feel like burning with your lame excuse of a neighborhood watchman leader?" Nykel asks the other four hoodlums. Surprisingly, they only falter for a moment before taking out whatever cheap weapon they have: knives, pipes, or old baseball bats. "Ah, that's unfortunate."

"I got them." Caren tells her friend, her head still lowered. "You can take this clown."

"Fair enough, Caren." Nykel replies.

"Hey, I heard some Guardians use knives. This good enough?" Reggie asks, holding up the sheathed five-inch Jackknife he kept for self-comfort.

Caren takes the blade, muttering thanks.

* * *

**Earlier that day:**

POV: Link

"Hey ghost, you said there were others in this City who became Guardians last night?" I ask my new-found companion as he floats around my apartment, scanning various things. I, too, move around my abode, looking for an old heirloom my father left me.

"Yes. Normally, the Traveler chooses her Guardians from those who have been dead for a while, but it seems that recently that she decided to see how choosing those still-living would work out."

"I see. And just how many of us were chosen?"

"Hold on, scanning for Guardians..." The ghost tells me, floating still for a moment. "Not counting us, there are about five others."

"I see." I reply. "Can you tell me their names?"

"I can't, no. I _can_ tell you where they are, though." Ghost explains.

"In which case, we'll go looking for them in a few minutes." I tell him. "Keep an eye out for a hand cannon for me, alright?"

And so, I continue looking for the hand cannon. Despite my greatest efforts, my ghost finds it before I do, tucked away in a part of my closet that I was sure didn't have it.

Taking the gray firearm in my hand, I look at the text engraved under the barrel:

_Hoss Mk. 37  
Tex Mechanica Co._

_So this is what you left me? Thanks, dad. I'll need it._ I tie the leather holster around my waist and tuck the gun in it, placing it on my lower waist.

"Okay ghost, take me to the nearest Guardian." I tell him. "I have a hunch as to who these people might be, though I'm not sure."

"Alright. Let's go."

And with those words from my floating friend, we open the doors to the middle city, and my journey begns.

Or rather, _our_ journey.

* * *

**I love how a lot of the fanfictions for Destiny think outside the box. I wouldn't think of the stuff that most people have been doing here, which makes me happy to see everyone be so creative :3  
That being said, I think it warrants me to do something a little... less... original. Ah well, in any case I still hope you liked my pilot chapter! I'll be sure to make more in the future, but until then, don't forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review! It helps me get through the day... like coffee ~.~  
**

**P.S. Nykel's name is pronounced (nih-KELL), NOT nickel! :P**

**-Regards and all that, SEP**


	2. Our Beginning: Pt2

**Author's Note:** I'm ba-ack~! It seems popularity's off to a rough start, but if I'm totally honest, I'm still going to write anyways! So, hooray for my persistence! .. Or could it be my lack of caring? WHO KNOWS? :D I'm still going to call you all mini-Crotas from now on, though. As such, mini-Crota, do not forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review!

**Our Beginning: Pt.2**

_Link_

As soon as I enter the not-so-wonderful neighborhood that I am still proud of to call my own, I see a familiar young women sitting with her face buried in her knees on the staircase leading down to the sidewalk.

"Looks like we found our first Guardian." My ghost tells me, the both of us staring at the depressed-looking girl.

"You mean the one sitting down right there?" I ask, hoping for the answer to be 'no'.

"Yeah. She's definitely of the light, like us." My ghost replies, much to my disappointment

_Oh shit_, I think to myself. _Of all people, I never wanted her to be a part of this. She's not strong enough._

Despite my complaints, brooding over the fact helps nothing. If she's a Guardian as well, then the million-glimmer question would be if the others are in the same position as us. However, having _her_ in the same boat as me is bad enough; I don't know what I'd do if _everyone else_ was. Thing is, though, it's gotten to be more likely since I found out about her.

There's one problem though: There's five of us in our circle.

Who's the sixth Guardian, if I _am_ correct?

Maybe I'll find out if I visit Klodiya. But, that'll come second. First things first, _her._

"Anissia?" I call out to her. "What's wrong?"

She looks up to me with her shining white eyes, fluorescent Awoken tears streaming down her light blue cheeks.

"I can't... I don't..." She tries to peace together an explanation through her tears, to no avail. Annie has always been a fragile soul; shy and sensitive, I don't want to imagine how she'd end up like if I hadn't talked to her back then.

"_I don't know what to do!"_ She cries out, immediately burying her face back into her legs and sobbing louder than before. _I have to tell her, but how do I break this to her? What do I do..._

Just then, I spot her ghost floating stupidly over her right shoulder, staring at us. _There we go._

I walk over and kneel down beside her. "Hey..." I say calmly. "You have one too, right?" I hold out my palm, silently demanding my ghost to hover above it, which works. Floating in my left hand, I hold it out in front of her.

Annie lifts her head up, and sees my ghost. Her tears stop flowing, though some still linger on her face. Her bright, beautiful eyes widen at the sight of the floating manifestation of Light.

I stand up, slowly. I extend my free hand towards Annie, attempting to say more words of comfort. "I don't know what lies ahead for me, but as long as I'm still breathing, you can count on me to be there for you."

Annie hesitates for a moment before finally reaching out towards my hand, lifting herself up. "Thank you... Link." She says, wiping her tears.

"There's something I need to find out, though." I tell her. "It about the others. If it happened to us, don't you think that they're a part of this now, too?"

"Oh no..." She replies, a look of worry on her face.

"There were others who experienced the same thing we did last night. We have to find them. Come on, let's go." I turn around and begin walking, hoping for her to follow me.

"A-alright." She replies, catching up to me and slowing her pace to match my own.

"Ghost - Where's the next Guardian?" I ask my floating friend which had just helped me comfort a close friend of mine.

"They're not too far. I'll lead the way." The ghost tells us, floating a few feet ahead.

After a little while, we leave our Hive-hole of a neighborhood and cross a few sets of train tracks, set parallel to each other like metal nets. This and a small stretch of road completely devoid of any buildings on its sides separates us from a neighborhood where the residents are a bit more well-off, to say the least. It's a part of the City that's well-known to both Annie and myself for a few reasons.

Soon, we arrive at a house whose maroon paint is far more faded and chipped than the other houses. It's steps are worn and covered with dust, save for the spots where footsteps have left their mark, where the dust is a bit less prominent.

When my ghost tells us, "they're here," it becomes apparent to us just who the next Guardian is. But something still bugs me.

"Hey ghost," I ask. "Why are you saying 'they'?"

* * *

A little bit earlier...

_Narrator_

In an old, dusty home in a better part of the City, there's a young woman and an Exo.

"Aw, Christ almighty, it's great to have a body again. I can _feel!_ Wait a second, how's that?" The Exo exclaims in a British accent as he "stretches" his joints.

"I am assuming Exos are built that way. The question would be why that is so. I mean, would they not be more efficient if they felt nothing?" The woman inquires in her Eastern-European accent, pacing around the moderately-lit room. Her rectangular violet glasses would match her short, evenly cut dark violet hair and white lab coat perfectly to create an intelligent looking lady (frankly, she still does to an extent) if it weren't for the black sweater and red sweatpants underneath, both stained with cheap food.

"I suggest that you don't dwell on it for the time being. I mean, there's- Oh, bulls." The Exo is interrupted midsentence by the lovely force of gravity, which causes him to drop to the ground when his left leg, which seemed to be a bit too loose, falls off of him as he attempts to "stretch" it out. "Hey, Klodiya, you mind helping me out here? I'm a bit troubled."

"In a moment, I'm- I'm just trying to piece something together here." She paces around the room for a little longer while the Exo sits up and plays with his leg, attempting to reattach it to his metallic pelvis to no avail. After about a minute and a half of almost-silence filled mostly with Exo parts _clink_'ing and the pacing footsteps of a stressed young woman, she says "Fuck it" out loud and proceeds to help the Exo onto her kitchen table in the next room over. This proves to be quite the hassle, not just because of the old dishes and imperishable cans of food stacked on said-table had to be hastily removed, but also because the Exo himself weighed somewhere around 110 kilograms, while the woman only had about 65 kilograms, though most of the latter's weight is actually muscle mass.

"Now then, on to this..." Klodiya proclaims, taking out an old toolbox her father had left her.

Thus, she goes to work. Since she had devoted much of her recent time to studying the Traveler and the Vex, her mechanic skills are rusty. Several times something happens: the leg falls off again, a screw pops off and flies across the room, and at one point Klodiya even bent a rusted wrench slightly attempting to loosen a rather tight bolt that was in the way.

Over time, though, progress is made and the leg is on its way to being fully attached.

Just as a Klodiya is calibrating the leg so that the Exo could feel it again, they hear the front door in the living room swing open, followed by multiple footsteps.

"_Der'mo,_" Klodiya whispers under her breath. "I left the door unlocked..."

"Wasn't the last time you left the house around last week? And please don't speak your weird Cabal-y language around me, I can't understand it!" The exo replies.

"Shut up." Klodiya hushes, holding her finger up over her mouth. "And actually, I went into town just yesterday."

Klodiya tiptoes over to a nearby kitchen chair, lifting it up over her right shoulder like a weapon. She then tiptoes back over to the door, waiting for one of the intruders to be unfortunate enough to walk through it.

"...but maybe they're somewhere else." One of them says in the other room. Following his statement, a pair of footsteps comes closer to the kitchen door.

"Hey, isn't that- " The exo stops midsentence, interrupted by Klodiya's chair being smashed over the upper back of the would-be intruder.

The intruder falls to the ground with a brief "Ach!"

He rolls over onto his back, but before he could get up Klodiya sits on top of him, pinning him down with both of her legs over his waist. She pins both of his arms down with surprising strength and begins interrogating.

"Who are you!? Why are you- Oh." Klodiya stops her interrogation midsentence, realizing who the man is.

Still pained to have been struck by a hardwood chair, Link replies, "Nice to meet you too, Klodiya."

The Exo, who witnessed the whole scene, whistles, which looks strange for an Exo but is still possible for some reason. "Well, well, well, look what we have here." He calls out, pointing out their odd position.

The other would-be intruder in the other room says nothing; however, her cheeks begin glowing light blue, which must be what Awoken blushes look like.

"Ah-heh, we should get up now." Link proposes, embarrassed.

"Agreed." Klodiya replies, holding her head down in shame.

"After you." Link says.

The two get up, not saying a word about what just happened.

"Anyways, ah, why's your dad's experimental suit lying here?" Link asks, his previous pain now nothing but an ache.

"Hey, I believe the proper term here is _Exo!_" The Exo replies half-sarcastically.

"Eh?"

"He's right. When my father always told us that he was experimenting with humanoid Mechatronics, he meant that he was making an Exo. Now, it seems, the AI that was on the computer is now inside of it." Klodiya explains.

"Hey now, that's not exactly polite either, Klodiya." The Exo exclaims.

"Why's that?" Link asks.

"I believe I can explain that." A voice says. Immediately afterward, a ghost much like Link's appears from behind Klodiya, seemingly out of nowhere. He floats over to Link, scans him briefly (the blue light of which causes Link to recoil slightly) and begins speaking. "Guardian, your ghost sent me a message saying you would come looking for the other Guardians that had been chosen by the Traveler at 2330 hours last night in the City. It seems that this Exo here was also chosen last night, the same as you, Klodiya, and the other Guardian over there."

After this brief explanation, a look of realization washes over Link's face. After a moment, he tells Klodiya in a slightly rushed tone, "Finish doing whatever you're doing here and come outside. We have to find Nykel and Caren." He then grabs Annisia by the wrist and drags her outside before Klodiya can say a word. "We'll be waiting!" Link calls back.

"Did he just say nickel?" The Exo asks.

"No, he said Nykel." Klodiya replies.

"Whatever."

It's only a few moments after the other two leave that Klodiya successfully fixes the Exo's leg and the two walk outside to join their new companions.

"Caren is probably going to be freeloading at Nykel's dormroom with him. We should probably go there first." Klodiya proposes.

"Normally, that'd be the case. However, considering the kind of person Caren is, she'll probably be at her favorite bar. Also, knowing Nykel, he'll probably go looking for her." Link explains.

"You truly know us better than we know ourselves, don't you, Link?" Klodiya remarks.

"Hey, we've all known each other since we were kids," Link replies. "you gotta expect me to know these kinds of things about you guys."

"Eh, I guess."

* * *

_A little while later,_

_Klodiya_

Thanks to Link's ghost leading the way, it isn't long until we find the bar that Caren has been frequenting since she turned 20. The street is has a few cars here and there, and the sidewalk itself is mainly devoid of pedestrians other than ourselves. As soon as we get within about 10 meters of the entrance, it's thrown open, followed by what appears to be three members of the local neighborhood watch, all of which seem to be beaten pretty badly, their jackets cut up by what was probably a very sharp blade. They stand up frantically, and trip over themselves trying to run away from whoever seemingly inflicted such wounds upon them.

Shortly after this slightly comical scene, a woman with short, uncombed, silvery white hair comes out of the bar, holding another watch member a few feet off the ground by his collar with one hand. She throws him across the sidewalk with surprising strength, directly into a street lamp. He slides down the pole into a sitting position, his bruised face clearly showing too little energy to stand up on his own.

As the woman, who's unmistakably Caren, stands there in anger, another fellow in a trench coat follows Caren out the bar, _also_ carrying a watch member. While he's also holding the member off the ground, he does so by gripping the watch member's wrist, which seems to be smoking.

"... And you see here, _Jerry_, that you got absolutely _no business_ messing with me _or_ my friends! I'm barely using a fraction of my fire against you, and you're _still_ burning! This is what you get for being the kind of person you are: FIRE!" The trenchcoat man exclaims. "So tell me: Do you want to burn!?"

The watchman, who's clearly Jerry, tries to reply, but the only thing he can utter are repressed screams of pain from the obvious burning and some gibberish.

"So you DO want to burn! I see... Now, then, BURN!" The trenchcoat man cries out. However, before he can set Jerry entirely aflame, someone fires a gun. It's close, since my ears begin ringing slightly.

The man drops Jerry to the ground, who immediately gets up and runs away, clutching his wrist which may or may not have 3rd degree burns. Everybody else, however, crouches down, including myself.

Once everyone starts looking around, we find that it was actually Link who shot the gun, which appears to be a hand cannon, into the air.

"That's enough. Nykel, Caren, I'm assuming that you're both in the same position as us?" He asks, his voice much louder and commanding.

Caren and Nykel stand up, both of them looking at us.

"The fuck?" Caren asks, a buck knife in her hand.

"Oh damn, you're saying that..." Nykel seems to be realizing everything just now, or is at the very least confirming the same suspicions that Link had.

"That's right. We're all Guardians now." Link confirms. Being next to him, I barely hear him follow up as a whisper, "_goddamnit."_

"I see." Nykel states. "Then there's only one thing we can do now."

He turns back to Caren, who I now realize is probably drunk judging by her strange pose. "I know you're probably not okay with this, but- OH SHIT!" He exclaims midsentence, as Caren had passed out on the sidewalk.

As Nykel panics, not knowing what to do, Link walks over, holstering his gun, and picks Caren up off the ground. "Here, you can carry her." He hands her off the Nykel, who takes her gently.

"Alright. Everyone," Link calls back to us, who were basically just standing there awkwardly the whole time. "We're all going to the Tower! My ghost will lead the way; Let's go!"

And so, the six of us are joined together once again. It's been a while since we were all truly together like this.

It takes us about an hour to arrive at the base of the tower on foot. When we get there, we see a couple of service robots holding auto rifles on each side of the grand white entrance. When we approach said-entrance, the two mechanized guards block our way.

"State your business." They both say simultaneously. Before we can reply, Link's ghost approaches them both and sends one beam of light each into both of their faces. After a brief moment, the two guards step to the side. "Welcome, Guardians."

And so, we enter the lobby, which appears to look at lot like that of a fancy hotel. At least, it would, if there weren't workers on either side, fixing service robots or other machinery.

Despite this, there still appears to be a normal front desk on the other end of the room, which the six of us approach. However, nobody's at the other end of the table. However, there is a desk service ringer.

Wasting no time, the Exo of our group walks up and, ignoring the service ringer, bangs his fist on the table so hard it's a surprise it wasn't damaged at all.

Following his _thump_, another _thump_ follows consecutively, this one seemingly coming from under the desk. Shortly after, an anxious-looking asian woman rises from under the desk, holding her head.

"Ahhh... " She groans in pain.

"Excuse me." Link says, pushing past our Exo friend. "We're requesting access to the Tower. So, if you would, could you kindly show us the way?"

The woman jumps initially at his words, but then sort-of regains what appears to be her usual "business-like" attitude.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but we aren't accepting workers right now, so if you could kindly leave, then it'd be much appreciated." She tells us, trying to sound professional. It'd work, but her tone of voice is just seems too nervous and jumpy. She's like a mouse.

"I think you have us mistaken for job hunters." Link replies. He then takes his ghost, and holds it in front of her face. "We're Guardians, ma'am, so I ask you again: Would you please give us access to the Tower?"

The receptionist's eyes widen at the sight of the ghost. "Ahm, excuse me." She says, walking over to a phone which is a few feet out of her reach. She stumbles twice before finally making it there. The lady dials what appears to be _45672_, and talks on the phone with someone who sounds important, judging by how she talks to them.

"...This has never happened before, what do I do?" She asks the person, nervous. The voice on the other end is fairly loud, though that seems to be more on the phone's part than the person. Listening closely, I can barely hear what the person's saying, who sounds like a woman.

_"...Which is why you should calm down. Kaori, simply tell them that their ghosts have the ability to do it themselves. Also, be sure to let them know that the Vanguard is waiting._" the voice says.

"A-alright. Thank you, Ms. Rey. I'll tell them." Kaori replies, putting the phone back down. Turning back to us, she begins repeating Ms. Rey's words. "It seems that the ghosts have permission to- I mean, are able to bring you all to the top of the Tower. Please go to the Vanguard when you arrive."

"I see. Well, thank you for your time, ma'am." Link tells the nervous wreck of a receptionist, waving goodbye. The six of us walk a few feet away from the desk, and all of our ghosts conveniently materialize out of nothing almost simultaneously. Even Caren's ghost comes out, despite Caren herself still being knocked out cold in Nykel's arms.

Link whispers between his ghost for a moment. Afterward, the ghost turns to us (or, rather, our ghosts).

"On the count of three, we all teleport up." The ghost instructs us. Some ghosts reply with a "got it" or something of the sort, while Anissia's ghost and my own simply shake their front half up and down, as if to nod back in understanding.

And so, Link begins the countdown.

"One.. two.. three!"

My vision goes white, but not for long. Perhaps a few moments at best.

* * *

**Slow buildup... Eh, maybe. I still have this story planned out for a while, so slow buildup or not, I assure you it will get better! Just, eh, hang in there until then. I'm going to get going on the third chapter as soon as I can (which is actually probably just going to be tomorrow or something). Regardless, if you enjoyed it, don't forget to Favorite, Follow, and Review! Well, I guess you could review if you didn't like it, but meh, whatever.**

**I've been studying the Vault of Glass recently because i love this game's lore, so I'm almost definitely going to include something on that raid. Maybe, if I work hard enough, i can do so when HoW comes out in honor of us being able to upgrade our VoG gear!**

**-Regards and all that, SEP**


End file.
